


Pruning the Prince

by yeen_meteor



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, Gore, Guro, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeen_meteor/pseuds/yeen_meteor
Summary: (Third Semester Spoilers)Haru has always been a bit of a sadist, but never so much as now. Akechi had left her with some very real anger and frustration to work through, after the Boiler Room. With the target of her wrath already long gone, however, it's all she can do to fill a little notebook full of all her most violent dreams and fantasies.Then, by some miracle, Akechi comes back, and he finds the notebook. Their alliance through January becomes quite the tense and uneasy one.At the beginning of February, though, Haru discovers Maruki may have inadvertently given her the opportunity of a lifetime.(The first chapter is mostly sfw and character-focused, exploring Haru and Futaba coping with the feelings Akechi left them with after he died, and Haru's dynamic with him when he returns.)(The second chapter's just guro smut though lmao)
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Okumura Haru, Okumura Haru & Sakura Futaba
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Pruning the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> whoops i meant to write a simple gore fic but i accidentally had a ton of fun just writing about the characters so there's 8000 words of just developing the grudge and the dynamic
> 
> atlus why the hell are haru and futaba just ok with having akechi around in january

December 11.

Haru was using her Sunday off to get away from things and relax for a while. She sat comfortably in a booth in Cafe Leblanc, enjoying a lovely cup of Sojiro’s recommendation for the day, a Costa Rican SHB blend that had a taste a touch more soothing and sweet than the cafe’s usual house blend. She had a brand-new notebook on the table, with a lovely flower-patterned hardback cover and a unique flower on the corner of each page, and she was whiling away the hours filling the pages with writing, sitting in comfortable silence with Futaba as the other girl passed the time on her laptop.

Akechi had revealed his truest nature and passed away just five days prior, in the boiler room of the Cruiser of Pride. Akira seemed to be allowing the whole group some time to process things before they prepared the final calling card, and Haru was grateful. It had been sickening to witness. Absolutely revolting, to her very core. She had stood there and listened to this madman ramble on about the flimsy motivations behind his crimes, the paper-thin reasons why her father had to die - and that, moreso than Akechi’s death, was sticking in her mind and not budging.

Her fountain pen filled the pages of her notebook with flawless calligraphic beauty, a quick but precise hand leaving not a stroke out of place. Her writing looked just as lovely as the notebook it was filling.  _ ‘The force of the blow left Akechi staggering,’  _ She wrote.  _ ‘His gun clattered to the ground as his hand went limp, and he found he couldn’t will himself to move his fingers. They weren’t quite numb yet, though, and he could feel something warm trickling down his arm, down his wrist, staining his well-fitted tan peacoat with a deep red. His eyes were wide as he looked back at me, but aside from drawing a heavy, shaky breath, he didn’t make a sound. He was still in shock, and couldn’t quite register the pain yet, it seemed. What a shame.’ _

The other thing that wasn’t budging in Haru’s mind was the memory of getting to swing an axe at the killer’s neck during their confrontation. It was a pleasant memory, and she was sure at least one of the other Thieves had noticed her enjoying that battle a touch too much. But the axe didn’t quite find purchase in a satisfying way, in the Metaverse - It didn’t sink into his flesh and draw blood, it didn’t cripple him, it merely took away a slice of his stamina. It was satisfying, it was  _ wonderfully _ satisfying, but there was a bit of hollowness to it that left her craving something more real.

A quiet voice in the back of her head noted that perhaps her sadistic side was growing a bit too much in the wake of what had been happening lately. But, lovely and relaxing as gardening was, it wasn’t quite working to ease this particular stress. She needed something more.

She paused for a moment, tapping her lip with the end of her pen, considering how her story should proceed. The little break led her eyes to wander around the cafe, then back to her friend on the other side of the booth. Futaba had a stern sort of expression on her face, with her lips in a tight line - there certainly could be any number of reasons for her to be frustrated, right now, any number of things on the screen she was staring at. But, Haru couldn’t help but wonder if it was Akechi that was leaving her in a somber mood as of late, as well. It was one thing to know he’d killed her mother, but it was entirely another to know why, as Haru could attest. She’d been meaning for a few days now to ask Futaba if she was okay after seeing it laid bare what that bastard had done to her, but the time never seemed right, it seemed too soon. Perhaps now, though, enough time had passed.

She closed her notebook for the moment, and Futaba noticed the cue and took one ear of her headphones off. “What’s up?” Futaba asked.

“...Pardon me if I’m souring the mood, but,” Haru started as gently and as softly as she could, “I’ve just been wondering how you’ve been feeling. After… Hearing what he had to say. I can’t help but worry, especially knowing how it made me feel…”

Futaba went quiet for the moment, and her posture slouched, her eyes drooping just enough to be noticeable and staring down at the table. She took a deep breath, and took a moment to gather her thoughts. Haru shrank into her seat a bit, too, seeing how much even mentioning it was hurting her friend, but it’d do Futaba no good to bottle this up.

Eventually, Futaba spoke. “Yeah… I… I guess you and me are in the same boat with this, huh.” She paused the music she had on, and set her headphones aside, crossing her arms on the table and slouching even further. “It’s… It’s a lot.”

Haru’s heart was already breaking, seeing the team’s hyperactive little sister looking so worn down. She wanted to run over there and hug her right this instant, but she waited, giving Futaba a chance to say her piece first. Hugs would come after. Lots of hugs would come after.

Futaba found a few more words to say. “I-I guess, like, in the moment… In the moment I felt bad for him, because his dad hurt him, a-and because he died, right? I was scared, and I felt bad, and I felt bad we didn’t save him! But…” She paused, and took a few steadying breaths that sounded just slightly uneven. 

“But…” Her head fell onto her folded arms on the table, hiding her face and muffling her voice. “But he just… He’s just… So… Childish…! And he did all that just because he was childish!” Her voice was starting to break, and she was clearly on the verge of tears. Haru could feel some tears threatening to form in her own eyes, as well, seeing this. Futaba was starting to hyperventilate as she raised her voice. “He… He killed them… He killed Mom because… Because he - he wanted to make his revenge b-better!? Or something!? L-l-like he could’ve stopped Shido at any time, and - but - but - but no,” The tears were starting to fall freely, “H-he had to, to wait, to wait until, until Shido liked him, or something,  _ then _ get revenge, and, and, and just for - just for  _ that _ , just for  _ that _ Mom had to die? Just for  _ that? _ J-j-j-just so Akechi could be… Just so he could be PETTY?”

Sojiro turned the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. 

Futaba sniffled, and coughed, and gasped for air, and sobbed loudly, and tried to form words but couldn’t anymore, and collapsed onto the table in a heap. Haru was at her side in an instant, running her hand through Futaba’s hair. Sojiro, his face in a pained grimace, provided some tissues.

“Shh, shh shh…” Haru kept offering gentle reassurances, taking a moment to wipe the tears from her own eyes. It was so childish, wasn’t it… So unfair, so meaningless. Wakaba and Kunikazu had really died for nothing, nothing but some petulant child’s whims…

“Let it all out… But try to take some deep breaths, okay…?” Haru’s soft voice and gentle hand were there for Futaba as she wept her whole heart onto her sleeve. 

Futaba managed one horribly shaky but deep breath, and screamed it back out. “Everything I went through - Everything! It was all because of - because of - just - Nothing! It’s not  _ fair! _ ”

Haru kept with her gentle care for as long as it would take, comforting Futaba for as long as she’d need it. But the whole time, the image of Akechi broken, bleeding and whimpering beneath her was burning strong in her mind. She wished she could make him pay. She wished she could make him suffer. She wished she could have been the one to rip the life from him, for all the pain he’d put her through, for all the pain he’d put Futaba through.

It was too late for that, but perhaps that was for the best. Now, there was nothing wrong with her spending all hours of the day with her little fantasy; Now, it was harmless. Sadist though she was, Haru had no desire to ever become a killer, unlike a certain rotting corpse she hadn’t yet had the chance to spit on. Fun as it might be for a fleeting moment, she had a heart, and she knew the guilt would break her.

After Futaba was able to calm down, and after  _ lots _ of comforting hugs the two of them both sorely needed, the two spent the rest of the afternoon together, enjoying some snacks and movies back at Futaba’s house. Whenever she had a spare moment, though, Haru opened her notebook again, and kept writing her little story.

_ ‘Until now, there had still been some light of hope and defiance in Akechi’s eye, but now, with his legs bloodied and broken and his arms messily severed, with more of his blood on the floor than in his body, I smiled as I looked down at his face and saw nothing but despair and pain. I laughed, a soft little mocking laugh. “You know,” I taunted, “I don’t think it’s impossible that you could still come out of this alive, little Prince. The hospital’s not far, after all… But what would be the point?” I giggled manically as his drooping eyes looked up at me. “What could you even do with your life now, if I let you keep living it? How much have I taken away from you forever, just by taking your arms?” The despair in Akechi’s eyes only grew more intense, and I kept laughing. “What a fucking pointless and pathetic life that would be!” My voice was soft and singsong. I hope he hated how cheerful I sounded. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “So,” I raised my bloodied axe once more, “I’m going to give you a choice, Prince. Beg for your pointless little life, and I’ll let you keep it. Keep quiet, and I’ll leave you there to bleed out slowly. But, if you beg me to kill you quickly, if you plead with me to put you out of your misery… I. Might. Do. Just. That. And really… That’s probably the best outcome left for you at this point, don’t you agree~?”’ _

* * *

December 15th. The notebook’s first chapter was complete. Haru painted a title onto the cover, ‘Pruning the Prince’, and kept it close wherever she went. There was something calming about it. It made her feel powerful, like nothing could ever get in her way again. She read it again before entering Shido’s palace for the last time, and she fought harder than ever before to bring down the shadow of the man who had pulled the strings Akechi had so generously handed to him.

* * *

January 4.

Kunikazu had agreed to accompany Haru to Leblanc for their morning coffee before they got on with their plans for the day. It was one of her biggest inspirations for her new venture, after all, and there was no better way to show her father just what it was she wanted to achieve with her own coffee shop. Additionally, while she’d never be so rude as to say it to Sojiro’s face, his business was ailing, and savvy as Kunikazu was, he might be able to spot some ways to improve on Sojiro’s business model without harming the spirit of it.

Morgana, Wakaba and Futaba were all enjoying breakfast as well, and after the Okumuras had finished talking business with Sojiro, they settled in for a bit of coffee and small talk. It seemed Akira had already taken off to see Ryuji today, unfortunately, but this was wonderful company to enjoy a morning with and Haru had absolutely no complaints.

After a bit of a break in the pleasant chatter, Futaba piped up with a question. “So bear with me if you already told me and I forgot, I swear my memory’s dropped firmly to goldfish tier lately, but what’s up with that book you were working on?”

Haru blinked. “Hm?”

“Y’know, like… A couple weeks ago, you had a book you were writing a whole bunch in for a couple days. Did I ask you about that? I feel like I forgot to ask you about that.”

“Oh… That? I, uh… Oh dear...” A blush formed on Haru’s face, as she reflexively held her handbag a little closer to her body. “It’s… It’s personal! That’s why I had to write it in pen and paper!” She recovered her calm smile, but the blush was still there. “It’s the only way I can have secrets with you in the friend group, after all.” She giggled. 

Kunikazu laughed jovially along with her. “About to open your own business, and you’re still finding the time to become a romance novelist, are you, Haru? You’re going to make quite the name for yourself at this rate, with all your talents.”

He sounded proud at the idea, and that only made Haru shrink into her seat a bit further. Truth be told, Haru had absolutely no idea why she carried that book with her all the time. It was quite a depraved thing, the kind of thing that should be kept tucked away in one’s own bedroom, buried in a closet. If Akechi-san found out… Well, if anyone found out, it would be a nightmare! Sure, her being a bit of a sadist had become an inside joke among their friends after one too many cheerfully-delivered threats, but she was pretty sure everyone still thought it was just a joke. And besides, it wasn’t like she’d ever actually hurt a fly! She just… Thought it was fun to imagine! And Akechi-san is really pretty!

Really, at this point, it was probably best to just get rid of the book altogether. Besides, it wasn’t anything special, as far as stories of those kind went. There were plenty on the internet, and plenty of good artwork, too!

Thankfully, the conversation shifted after Wakaba started talking about a romance novel she was really fond of (and then about Futaba’s father and what a disaster that experience was), and Haru was saved the humiliation of being questioned further by the ever-nosy team gremlin.

After the Okumuras left and made their way to Kichijoji, Haru found a garbage can in the train station to toss the book into, and that was that.

* * *

Akechi stepped off the train at Kichijoji, planning on spending the afternoon at Jazz Jin in some vain attempt to clear his head and gather his thoughts. Hopefully at least there he could delude himself into feeling some sense of normalcy and comfort in this sickeningly corrupted world. 

The distinct pastel-colored outfit and puffy hair of Haru Okumura happened to catch his eye as he wandered through the station, though. For whatever reason, she seemed to be throwing a notebook in the garbage. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if the notebook might be something she used to consider important, in the real world, something her delusional self didn’t care about anymore. If that were the case, the book might be useful to Akira in gathering this particular footsoldier for their mission.

Given that Akechi fully expected not a single Phantom Thief to be in attendance on the 9th, he decided he may as well retrieve the book and try to get at least one to wake up. It would certainly make the fights less of a pain, and Okumura was probably one of the least annoying ones. The way she fought was somewhat amusing.

So, he pulled the book from the trashbin as nonchalantly as he could. Mercifully, it was unstained, without a trace of food waste. That settled, he continued on his way.

He seated himself in the jazz club, ordered his usual drink, and finally took a proper look at the book he was holding. On the cover of the flowery book, painted with a fine brush, was the title in bold kanji: Pruning the Prince. With a chuckle, he wondered if it might be an outline of their plans to overcome his attempt on Akira’s life.

What he found when he turned to the first page, though, was anything but. Instead, he found an intricately detailed, meticulously drawn-out and horrifically gruesome revenge fantasy being carried out by an axe-wielding Haru Okumura, with himself as the victim. Page after page of violent torture, arrogant mocking, and a concentrated effort to absolutely shatter the fictional Akechi’s spirit beyond repair along with his body. She started deliberate and calculating, but by the end of the story was feral and uninhibited in a very, very familiar way.

Akechi laughed. Akechi laughed and laughed, somewhere halfway between a maniacal cackle and the laughter of someone who’s just heard the best joke they’ve ever been told. He laughed so hard and so loud that the performing singer had to stop and shoot him a glare.

It was absolutely hilarious to him just how much reading this felt like looking in a mirror - not with the bloody ragdoll Akechi in the story as his reflection, but with Okumura instead displaying exactly the same seething, vicious, all-encompassing hatred for him as he had felt for Masayoshi Shido. He’d inadvertently reduced one of the high-and-mighty Phantom Thieves to a bloodthirsty vengeance-consumed maniac just like himself! 

Eventually, his laughing proved to be such a disturbance he was escorted out of the venue. He didn’t care, and he was still chuckling on his way out. Fuck his reputation, he was mostly sure he was as dead as Haru’s father anyway.

It took him a moment sitting on the sidewalk to catch his breath. As hilarious and ironic as it was to discover one of Akira’s angels was hiding  _ these _ feelings, he was also, of course, quite disgusted. Of course, it was exhilarating to fight, and to maul, and to kill, he understood that - but there was something about the way this book was written, and perhaps something about the book’s existence at all, that struck him as being outright fetishistic on Okumura’s part. For all he thought about the day when he’d finally kill Shido, for all he  _ dreamed _ about it - the thought certainly never crossed his mind to put the ideal scenario to paper in such gratuitous detail. She was fantasizing over killing him with such an absurd level of fanaticism that he couldn’t  _ fathom _ her writing this without a hand in her own pants. It was a level of obsession that reminded him of his fangirls every bit as much as it reminded him of himself. And she was carrying the book on her person, too, despite it having been written at least weeks ago - Was she that obsessed with revisiting it? Was this how she spent her nights? 

Did this somehow fit into her current view of the world well enough to not break her out of it on sight?

Today, the ‘Detective’ finally felt like he’d perhaps found too much information.

* * *

January 8.

On the streets of Kichijoji, bright and early in the morning, Akechi found the Okumuras once again stopping by the site of the cafe they planned to launch. Seeing little reason to beat around the bush (and perhaps seeing a reason to rephrase that thought, considering), he simply approached the two while casually tossing the book in the air and catching it. 

“Miss Okumura, if I could ask for a moment of your time in private?”

Haru turned, saw the book, and immediately paled, going wide-eyed and stuttering a response, her voice somehow going even higher until it was outright squeaky. “A-a-a-Akechi-san! I - Where did - H-how - Um - Y-yes! Um! Yes, let’s! Speak privately! F-father, a moment!”

Haru stormed out of there and to a nearby alley like she was taking cover from a bomb about to go off, and Akechi rolled his eyes and followed. When he turned the corner, he cleared his throat. “Ahem. So, care to explain what this is?”

“I-I’m so sorry!” Haru bowed low and shouted her apology at the ground. “I-I don’t mean anything by it, I promise, I don’t bear you any ill will at all, I think you’re a wonderful friend!”

That almost disgusted Akechi more than the notebook.

She continued. “I… I… You’re… You’re really cute, is all! Your hair’s adorable, and you’re so well-dressed and well put together and polite! And it’s possible I may have a bit of a crush! I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, but…! I promise I don’t want to kill you! I really-”

“Stop. Okumura.  _ Stop. _ ” Akechi felt sick to his stomach. Maruki’s reality was a goddamn nightmare. If Maruki could overwrite her desire for revenge like this… He wondered for a moment if he and Shido would be on as good terms as her and Kunikazu, had he fallen under Maruki’s spell. He actually had to swallow some saliva and concentrate on not vomiting.

“Do you really feel this strongly about me?” Akechi asked bluntly, with a tired, frustrated, narrow-eyed and disgusted gaze. “And I want you to really stop and think about it for a moment. What  _ really _ inspired you to feel so strongly about me that you penned this fetishistic tripe? Because you seem to have forgotten.”

“W… What?” Haru looked up at him again and blinked, completely bewildered.

“Look at me. Closely.” Akechi leaned in a bit and scowled. “When you look at my face, how does it make you feel, Okumura? How does it really?”

Akechi kept up his condescending stare, and at first, all he got in return was the girl mumbling “I don’t… Understand…”

But her expression shifted, from bewildered, to curious, to uneasy. Her eyes began to avoid his, but when they returned, what he saw in them was recognition, realization, and fear.

He also saw a fist flying straight at his face.

In her moment of clarity, Haru slugged Akechi in the nose with all the strength and anger she could muster, and she felt electrical shivers go down her spine as she felt his nose break, as she saw him stagger back, as she heard him hiss in pain.

But the moment passed, and Haru blinked a few times, bewildered, and she gasped as she saw Akechi’s nose dripping blood onto his coat, and she started with her squeaky-voiced panicking again. “O-oh my gosh I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me at all, I… I’m… I’m just going to… Go home…! I’m sorry!”

And with that, Okumura grabbed the book off the ground and ran. From her shame, from Akechi, and from the truth that she had no doubt just briefly glimpsed.

Akechi was simply left to nurse his broken nose and wonder what the hell the point of all this had been.

* * *

January 9.

Akira did manage to get through to Haru, just the same as everyone else, but it wasn’t until all the friends were gathered together that they had the bravery to confront reality.

With their memory restored, Haru and Futaba both had their emotional scars torn wide open all over again, their parents given to them and taken from them all over again. 

During the rescue effort, the two girls kept as much distance between themselves and Akechi as they could. It was very hard to hold their tongues after they left, when Akechi suggested an alliance to save the world from Maruki, but they managed. They went back to Futaba’s place, spent another evening together, and each had a good cry.

Haru began work on a second chapter that night.

* * *

January 20.

Throughout the first proper Phantom Thieves venture into Maruki’s Palace a week prior, Haru and Futaba had managed to get by by simply keeping as much distance from Akechi as possible. Just watching him fight and listening to him scream was deeply, fundamentally disturbing and disheartening, but they were professionals, they were heroes, and they had a job to do, so they let the spastic lunatic make himself useful to the cause, and they kept their eyes forward and their mind on the mission. It was a rough, stressful day, but they managed. Haru was able to find some small comfort in imagining Akechi’s face on the shadows she was cleaving apart, at least. 

Today, though, after a week of rest, Akira finally called the group together for the final trip to Mementos, and the team’s nine humans found themselves standing at the top of the spiraling, corrupted subway, trying to figure out the logistics of fitting into a van with 8 seats and an attitude. Haru and Futaba quickly got the feeling that today might not be quite as manageable.

Futaba very firmly demanded shotgun, and eventually secured the seat over Ryuji after enough persistent pestering. The second row was the one that ended up overcrowded, with Ann, Sumire, Akira and Ryuji squeezing themselves into the 3-person space. 

This left Haru in the middle of the back seat, between Yusuke and Akechi.

She was fond of Yusuke. He’d offered his support to her when the group was still going through Kunikazu’s palace, speaking from his own experience trying to change the heart of his once-beloved father figure. He’d felt that same heartbreak and betrayal seeing all Madarame’s cruelty laid bare, and he helped give her the courage to press on. For all his social obliviousness, when he actually did notice her hurting, he took good care of her. He was a good friend.

But having him here was a rather paltry comfort compared to being seated next to the Black Mask, in his most honest, flagrantly disrespectful form.

The crowd in the front of the bus seemed to be having a good time, as they started on the long journey down to the Depths. Sumire was fitting right in already, and everyone seemed to be having fun making small talk and getting to know her a little better. Haru didn’t really feel up to participating, though.

She just sat there, hands on her lap and eyes down, trying to make herself smaller. Every once in a while she’d sneak an aside glance at Akechi, who was leaned back and a bit sprawled out, staring out the window with that resting annoyed expression he’d been wearing ever since the death of the Detective Prince facade.

The bus shook violently as Makoto ran over a weak Shadow and cleanly killed it. Haru’s startled squeak was the loudest out of anyone’s, and it drew some looks from the rest of the bus. She blushed hard, and tried to look down far enough that her red face would be hidden under the brim of her hat. She was so desperate to shrink and disappear she was almost looking back fondly on her time as a mouse in Shido’s palace. She wasn’t usually one to startle easily; It was obvious how on-edge and tense she was, so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn’t been paying any attention to the world around her until they hit the monster speedbump. 

Yusuke put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and although she flinched at first, she was grateful. The gentle pressure was grounding, something she could anchor herself to to help her get out of her own head and back to the real world. It was a reminder that there were a lot more people here than just her and the killer, and the rest were all on her side. She took a deep breath, and was able to open her eyes and look up again. She saw Joker was giving her a sympathetic sort of grimace, and Futaba looked so worried she almost seemed outright scared. With another deep breath, she was able to give them both a reassuring smile, wordlessly saying she’d be okay.

Akechi, meanwhile, hardly seemed to be paying this interaction any mind. He’d shot her a bit of a scowl when she’d startled, but had gone right back to casually staring out the window again after.

Haru noticed as she glanced over at him that he seemed rather comfortable and relaxed. There was no tension in his posture at all. It almost seemed like he was daydreaming.

That really wasn’t fair at all. That was sickeningly unfair. Why was  _ he _ the one that got to be comfortable and at ease, while she had to sit here and suffer, stuck thinking about how he’d hurt her?

There was a silence in the air, and it was Akechi who decided to break it, getting in on the small talk with a remark about how the Thieves had ruined pancakes for him forever. It even got a few laughs out of the middle-row squad. Haru was fuming. His presence was making her so uncomfortable she couldn’t even talk, but  _ he _ could just chat up her friends all casually?

It was really starting to hit her just how insignificant the murder of Kunikazu was in his mind. He just didn’t care. It was the single most devastating, heartbreaking, painful moment of her entire life, and he just didn’t care.

She was starting to get angry, and she grabbed hold of that feeling and held onto it tight. Anger was anything but a weak feeling, and she was getting sick and tired of feeling weak because of him while he felt nothing at all. The anger rising in her chest was a breath of fresh air, as it so often was when people tried to make her feel weak, as it had been when she’d awakened against cognitive Sugimura. She was really growing to love the feeling.

She considered Akechi for a moment, giving him a long look, wondering if there might be some kind of small revenge she could take here. Some way to shift the power dynamic she was feeling in her favor, some way to make him feel weak or uncomfortable, some way to make herself feel strong.

Ah, of course! She’d brought the book along!

“Joker-san, would you mind if I step away from the active team for a little while? I’m thinking some light reading may help me to clear my head!” Haru smiled innocently, making sure she caught Akechi’s attention as she brought out her notebook.

Akira gave her a nod and a thumbs-up. “Sounds good. Queen, you’re with us for the next fight.”

Akechi leaned away from Haru, and looked down at her and the book with a disgusted sneer that was also just the faintest shade of bewildered that this was really happening. Haru just pretended not to notice as she opened up the book and began reading from the beginning. The tension in her posture was already easing, and her face wore a relaxed smile. 

“Okumura, do you  _ mind!?”  _ Akechi seethed, drawing the eyes of all the bus’ passengers.

“Mind what?” Haru answered with that well-practiced, effortless innocence in her voice. “And, please, we’re all allies here, Goro-san, by all means call me Haru!” She tilted her head to the side slightly as she looked towards him, closing her eyes and offering her softest smile. “Okumura was my father’s name.”

The whole bus collectively winced. Literally, in Morgana’s case. Akechi kept up his sneer for a moment, but seemed to realize this wasn’t an argument he could win with so many people present, so he simply did his best to distract himself looking out the window again.

Morgana coughed, and meekly offered “You both should be using codenames, anyway.”

There was an awkward silence for an entire floor.

Akechi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Seemingly unable to bear it anymore, he finally spoke up, halfway between a stage whisper and a growl. “At least keep your hands where I can see them,  _ Noir. _ ”

“Of course!” Haru’s soft smile was completely natural. She put her right hand on the handle of the axe that was resting next to her, and gave Akechi a bit of a look that wasn’t a wink, but felt like one.

Ryuji looked over, chuckled with a bit of a wince, and rolled his eyes. He whispered to Akira, in a voice that he probably thought was quiet but which definitely wasn’t (Ryuji wasn’t the best judge of the volume of his own voice, after all,)  _ “Jeez, it’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for the guy.” _

Akechi heard it, and groaned, laying his head against the window with a bit too much force. Haru noted with a silent giggle that Akechi seemed offended by the idea. Ryuji? Pitying him? Over incurring  _ her _ wrath? Truly the Thieves had no respect for how much of a big tough spooky edgy monster he was.

Ah, bringing this book along had been a wonderful idea. The weight felt like it had been lifted entirely from Haru’s shoulders.

She hummed idly for a moment, still reading through the pages of her gruesome little story, but she was at ease enough now that her mind was free to wander without ending up anywhere depressing. With her mind peacefully straying, she noticed a bit of soreness in her back that hadn’t quite gone away yet.

“Hmm… I bought new fertilizer for the flowerbed, but it was difficult to carry 30 kilograms all the way there…” She idly mused.

Makoto raised an eyebrow. “You... carried 30 kilograms of dirt to school on your own?”

Ann rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Jeez… Y’know, you have plenty of baggage-carriers on call, right here in this car.”

Sumire perked up and pitched in, “I’d be happy to give you a hand with stuff like that! It sounds like a good workout!”

The tension in the whole bus started to ease, the small talk between the Thieves began in earnest again, Haru was cheerfully participating, and Akechi was sitting unnerved and uneasy in the corner, trying to ignore it all.

Exactly as it should be.

* * *

February 2.

Futaba knew she promised to remove the bugs in Leblanc, but in truth she’d simply turned them off. Tonight, though, she couldn’t hold her curiosity back at all. She needed to see this for herself.

She tuned in and watched as Maruki and Akira had a nice, civil discussion about the fate of reality. The reveal that Akechi was eavesdropping made her feel a lot less guilty about doing the same.

It was then that Maruki revealed that Akechi had really, truly died, and was only alive by Maruki’s will, just the same as Mom had been.

Which meant that tomorrow, if they won, Akechi would be gone.

Futaba’s first reaction was to lay back and heave a deep sigh of relief. He was gonna be gone, he was really gonna be gone forever. She felt like she was suddenly unencumbered and finally able to move freely.

She heard Akira start laughing in Maruki’s face for somehow believing reviving Akechi would bring him happiness, and she started laughing too.

Right away, she pulled out her phone to tell Haru the good news and let her in on the joke.

_ Chat: pancake angst sisters!! (2 members) _

Futaba: YO

Futaba: HEY

Futaba: I HAVE THE BEST NEWS!!

Haru: Hm?

Futaba: BAD PANCAKE MAN WAS ACTUALLY DEAD THE WHOLE TIME

Futaba: THE MARUKIVERSE JUST MADE HIM FAKE ALIVE

Haru: Wait, really!? Is that really true?

Haru: Oh my gosh! So, once we’ve set everything right tomorrow, then…?

Futaba: *POOF!!* No more! We’re free!!

Haru: I’m so relieved I think I actually might start crying.

Haru: If I had to be civil and fight alongside him for another day I may have finally snapped.

Futaba: God, right???? like aaaaaaa i was gonna go shiho skydiving if i had to listen to the edgy bitch do one more angery scream

Futaba: I can’t believe

Futaba: he’s just so… pathetic ugh

Haru: Careful not to get yourself too worked up, okay? We should be celebrating! We’re free!

Futaba: YEAH!!

Futaba: Oh also i forgot to tell you maruki somehow unironically thought akira’s wish was getting akechi back LMAO

Haru: That’s hilarious! Did Akira laugh when he found out?

Futaba: Yeppppp lololol right in his face

Haru: Poor Maruki, it must be difficult not understanding the concept of hating someone.

Futaba: literally too pure for this world, had to make his own just to cope

Haru: Haha, so true!

_ Haru is typing… _

Futaba politely waited for Haru to finish composing her message (it generally took a while for her, anyway, she typed nowhere near as fast as Futaba did), but it was taking a lot longer than usual. After five minutes of silence, and of the ‘Typing…’ dots disappearing and reappearing, Futaba was starting to get the hint that there was something Haru was struggling to work up the courage to say.

Futaba: Hey now if you’re nervous about saying something don’t be

Futaba: you know me, I know everything about everyone and totally really definitely never ever ever spill secrets <3

Haru: Would I be able to come for a visit? I know it’s late, but tonight’s, well…

Haru: Tonight’s the only chance I have.

Futaba: ohohoho ominous >:3

Futaba: Ye it’s all good! Drop by whenever, I’ll pop some popcorn!

Haru: Thank you! I won’t be long!

* * *

Haru’s heart was racing so hard she could feel it. She was feeling so jittery she was almost shivering, so anxious that there was already adrenaline running through her veins. She was scared, but also more excited than she’d possibly ever been in her entire life. 

She had a plan, a devious little plan that could only be executed tonight, and she needed Futaba’s help. The thing she was scared of, though, was what would happen when she let Futaba in on all her secrets. This was probably the riskiest step, and she worried Futaba might sour on the idea of speaking to her, or being alone in a room with her… It was scary, the idea of being seen as scary by the people she loved! But she had one night, one chance, and she wouldn’t dare ever let this slip.

She clutched her notebook close to her chest. She’d also brought along a real-world replica of Noir’s domino mask and hat, as a little psychological trick to give herself more confidence. She was going to need plenty of that in the coming hours.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, and she felt like it was going to stay that way for a long time. Perhaps along with the hat and mask she should’ve packed a change of underwear. With where her mind kept wandering, she had a feeling it might prove necessary.

Her chauffeur parked nearby the Sakura household, and she brought the hat, mask and notebook along with her as she went to the door. Futaba greeted her excitedly, and Haru offered a wave and a hello in response, letting Futaba lead her to her room.

Futaba closed the door behind her. “Okay I figured you had some big secret to tell me, but, like, I can  _ hear _ it on you, you’re totally freaking out. You might wanna try breathing slowly a couple times first, okay?”

Haru nodded and took the advice, taking a few slow, deep breaths as she put on her hat and mask. She felt like Noir, now. She felt like the terror that left Shadows pleading for their lives beneath her. She was smiling, and that electrical feeling was still pulsing through her no matter how hard she tried to calm it. 

Futaba seemed satisfied with her efforts, though, and spun around in her desk chair once before crossing her arms on the back of it and leaning in. “So, what’s up?”

Haru took a deep breath, and chuckled, a shaky-sounding chuckle. “So… Akechi’s already dead, in reality, right? And this… This is his last night on Earth, so long as we win tomorrow, if my understanding is correct!”

Futaba nodded and ‘Uh-huh’d, with a bit of a wary look in her eye.

Undeterred, Haru swallowed her fear and continued. “I want you to see what I really wrote in this notebook, and tell me what you think!” Her voice, despite the adrenaline, almost reached a level of sweet innocence like she was asking Futaba to try a carrot she’d just picked from her garden. 

Futaba took the notebook, and flipped open the first page.

“...Ah. Huh.”

She started skimming through it, her face simply thoughtful.

“...You know, I knew you were a little too into the fighting, but I didn’t expect you to be a full-on guro maniac. But, y’know, I’ve been on the internet all my life, I’ve seen worse, you’re fine.” She stated with a surprisingly neutral and matter-of-fact tone. It wasn’t until she looked back up at Haru, and saw her still hyperventilating and jittery and wide-eyed and looking expectantly back at her, that she really considered the implications of  _ why _ Haru was showing this to her, and why  _ today. _

Haru wanted to kill Akechi, instead of letting him vanish on his own.

As soon as the look in Futaba’s eyes turned knowing (and a little disturbed), Haru was quick to throw her hands up in defense. “I-it wouldn’t be morally wrong, he’s already dead! This… This sort of isn’t even the real him, it’s almost, more like when I got to kill the cognitive Sugimura, except much much more realistic! You understand, don’t you?”

Futaba’s face shifted into a bit of a cringe, and she looked away, but Haru wasn’t exactly  _ wrong… _

Haru sounded way, way more desperate than she meant to when she almost shouted “This is the only chance in my life I’m ever going to have to do this to someone and have it just be morally okay, and it’s  _ Akechi _ , it’s probably the only person on earth I actually  _ would _ do this to outside of a fantasy, and-”

Futaba threw both of her hands up and waved them. “Slow down, slow down! Like, jeez, I get it, you’re parched! Just - Drink some water, or something! Can you - Can you at least give me a moment to digest this, please?”

“Water sounds really nice right now, actually!” Haru’s still talking way too fast. She’s physically incapable of being chill tonight. 

“I-I was making a joke, have you never heard the term ‘thirsty’ before, Akira said they taught it to him in school once - Look - Just… Whatever, if it gives me a moment to think I’ll get you your water!”

Futaba rushed out into the quiet of the hallway outside her room, and took a long, deep breath. 

Haru stayed seated on her bed, fidgeting anxiously.

Futaba was gone for a pretty long time, and Haru thought it would probably be a good idea to do breathing exercises in the meantime and do everything she could to bring the mood back to normal. She really didn’t realize how badly she wanted this until it had all come pouring out like that, and she didn’t want to scare Futaba off entirely.

Breathe in, 2, 3, breathe out, 2, 3. Breathe in, 2, 3, breathe out, 2, 3.

The door opened again, and Futaba handed her the glass of water, which Haru quickly downed in one go.

“Ahh… That does feel a lot better, actually…” Haru sighed with relief, actually feeling like the rush in her head and chest was starting to wane for the moment. 

Futaba once again leaned on the back of her chair from its seat and crossed her arms on it, with a face that looked all-business like she was at a Phantom Thief meeting. “So.”

“Aha… So…” Haru blushed, looking away and hiding her face behind the brim of her hat.

“So.” Futaba continues. “Judging by how Sojiro doesn’t remember Mom being here at all this month, and how he doesn’t remember studly Morgana… Nobody that buys Maruki’s illusions is going to remember you doing this after we set the world back to normal. They’re gonna think Pancake Boy died in December. But, all our friends  _ will _ know and  _ will  _ remember. Are you okay with that?”

Haru bit her lip. “...I’m confident they’ll understand! I, um… Suppose this is a case where I would rather ask for forgiveness than for permission, though! They know it’s been hard for me, spending another entire month with him on our team…”

Futaba took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Y’know what, yeah. It kinda would feel nice to get some kinda payback out of this. Like… Maruki made us have to deal with our parents’ killer as a teammate for all this time… I guess we could think of this like… Maruki actualizing your dream, I guess? To make it worth all that crap?” They both chuckled, and Futaba continued. “‘Cause it sure as hell wasn’t Akira’s dream, so Akechi being here’s gotta be someone’s. I guess if you explain it like that, then maybe…”

Futaba looked back up at Haru, and smirked. “Ryuji’s gonna be scared shitless of you, though, you know.” The two of them shared a good-natured laugh, at that.

Haru was a bit more at ease, now, with how well Futaba was taking this. Certainly, if she was going to go through with this for real, she was going to need to let the walls down and be completely shameless, just for the day.

Haru didn’t say anything further, so Futaba put her serious face back on. “Okay, second question. Asking forgiveness instead of permission, I get that. But you’re  _ here,  _ asking  _ me _ permission.”

“Well, that’s an easy one. See, I need you for part of my plan!” She had that smile on, now, the one full of fake gentle kindness and very real joy, the one that she always gave the downed Shadows.

Futaba cast a suspicious glare. “You’re not asking me to help with the, um… Gruesome part, right? Come on, I’ve never even hit a shadow with anything less impersonal than a remote bomb, I’m not exactly-”

Haru waved both of her hands in front of her face. “Nono! No no no, not at all, never, I’m not dragging you into my… Um, regardless! It’s your hacking skills I’m asking for, is all!”

“Hacking skills?” Futaba raised an eyebrow. 

Haru’s smile faded just for a moment, and she looked down at her hands. “See… The entire nation was watching, when Akechi killed Father. He did it with an audience. He set it up just so, so I and the entire world had to see it happen.”

She perked right up again, though, putting right back on a simple smile and a singsong, matter-of-fact tone that only had a faint touch of malicious edge to it. “I’m not letting this opportunity go to waste with a half-effort. I’m going to give Akechi everything he deserves, including a live broadcast on the screens of Shibuya Station Square.” 

Her face and voice turned genuinely sweet again. “If you’d be comfortable with helping, of course, and you’re under no obligation to!”

Futaba was quiet for a moment, considering the offer, thinking.

After a minute or so, she spoke up again. “...You know something? If you think about it, Akechi built my Palace with his own two hands.  _ He _ locked my soul in a tomb with nothing to do but wait until I died. I was so far gone I was  _ hallucinating her, _ Haru, I was  _ seeing her ghost in my room,  _ telling me  _ I _ killed her. I was considering starving myself to death, just, just not bothering to get up and eat anymore, not bothering to spend the effort, just laying there until I shut down. If I hadn’t been saved, I’d have done it. All because of him. It’s all because of  _ him. _ ”

She cracked her knuckles, and swiveled her chair to face her PC setup. “Get me a video feed and I’ll take care of the rest. I think I’m gonna enjoy this show.”

* * *

_ Phantom Thieves Group Chat (9 members) _

Haru: Sincerest apologies in advance!

Akira: ?

Ryuji: for what?

Futaba: Mwehehehehehe :3

Ryuji: Haru for what seriously

Ryuji: Is she offline? What the hell?

Makoto: Oh dear… What are you two up to?

**Author's Note:**

> turn back now if you don't want to see a violent axe murder on live television


End file.
